Category Archive

At the center of Flatland there was a tall sky-scraper, thirty stories high. In the skyscraper were many offices, filled with workers who spent their days typing at their ledgers, recording the business of Flatland that they could see out of their windows. After their work was finished every day, they left the skyscraper and went to their homes. They lived in houses and farms spread around the town-â€ the only town in Flatland. Flatland was not very big. Perhaps as big as sixâ€ football fields. Fotheringay, the CEO of the skyscraper in the center of Flatland, lived on the thirtieth floor. …

This is a short story set to music with visuals. It’s called ‘The Tower’. The visuals are from Sports World and the Negishi Grandstand. The music is by ‘A Silver Mt. Zion’- ‘Stumble and Rise on some Awkward Morning.’ To comment or see a larger version, click more.

My buddy Canadian Mike painted this- after many attempts to capture the mood of Jack vs. the Last Bunnyman. It’s from the opening scene of my story Killin Jack the Malakite, recently published in the zine Atomjack. Jack is the ape-like guy on the right. The Bunny is in the middle of the graves, just finished burying the last Bunny child, now leaping for Jack. I love it. It’s dark, but the colors are silvered out by the pale moon-light. I love Jack’s bulk, and the Bunnyman’s dynamic flight. Mike’s a great painter- we’ve talked some about turning Jack into …

My story Clay Head published at A Fly in Amber! There’s a giant head in my living room. It’s made of grey clay, and it sings through the night. It sings songs about America. Sometimes boogie-woogie or the Big Bopper. It sings Buddy Holly. It sings about the plane that crashed and sometimes the song about the crash. It sings about whiskey and rye. I don’t know why the head sings. I don’t know why the head is in my room, or why I let it stay. Read the full story at A Fly in Amber.

Sagasu was watching the child in the corner. The corner was dark, and the child was dark. Its mouth was open, always. Sagasu was grinding butterfly’s wings. He was mixing them with chalk dust and melted ox fat. He used a pestle and mortar and he ground them so the smell of ivory burning filled the air, and he clicked his teeth and sometimes he spat into the paste. He shaved a hammer and dropped the fine iron filings into the mixtures. He poured them out into a dimpled tray of eight metal cups, each as big as an egg, …

I fell in the hole on a Tuesday. The hole is a hole in the road. It’s not such a busy road, sure. Maybe 50 people walk by a day. I fell in by accident and now I can’t get out. The sides are steep, and there’s nothing down here for me to eat but this damn banana tree and rat bones. There’s a lot of dry and dessicated rats down here. It doesn’t make any sense to me. But, I have to eat, so I crack the bones and slurp down the dry marrow. It’s like molasses, but not …